


Undisclosed Desires

by 49shadesofgrey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, EVERYONE'S HUMAN, F/M, Gen, Rare Pairings, SUCK IT, Underage Drinking, why are there so many au tags already shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49shadesofgrey/pseuds/49shadesofgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd has never had a drink in his life, and when his roommate, Stiles, takes him out the next night, he's not sure what to expect--especially when Stiles tells him a certain redhead's taken a liking to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undisclosed Desires

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from the Muse song of the exact same name, if you were wondering (which I'm sure you weren't).

Boyd swore off drinking alcohol when he was ten, after his father came home drunk out of his mind one night. He watched and listened as his mother begged, pleaded for him to calm down, to just go to bed and sleep it off. It’s all still kind of hazy, the memories Boyd had repressed long ago. But, now he was in college, at UCLA, and this was St. Patrick’s day weekend.

His hyperactive, kind of irritating, something of a genius roommate, Stiles, had been drunk from Friday afternoon. Boyd rolled his eyes as Stiles pounded on the door at two in the morning. “Boooooyd,” Stiles not-so-whispered as Boyd opened the door to drag him into the room. “You should’ve, um… You should’ve come out, man. It was _awesome_. Girls everywhere, man. Everywhere. It was awesome.”  This was the usual Friday night/Saturday morning routine: Stiles would fumble his way into the room and flop onto his bed, fully clothed, talk about how much fun he had (of what he could remember) and tell Boyd he should’ve come out. And throw up once or twice.

“You’re coming out tomorrow, man, I swear,” Stiles mumbled as Boyd stuck his head into the trashcan. “If I don’t puke, you’re coming out tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal.” Boyd shrugged. Nothing wrong with indulging his drunk roommate, right?

Saturday morning came and went as Boyd went to bed, woke up, and had started reading his Art History book.  At 4:30, Stiles let out an agonized groan and muttered, “So much light. So loud. Turn the world off.” Without looking over at the boy, Boyd laughed. It was one of his favorite parts of staying sober. “Don’t fuckin’ laugh, man. This’ll be you tomorrow,” he said, a little bit too loudly for his own good.  “I didn’t puke, and you made a deal. So, wear that green shirt tonight, the kind of fitted polo that shows off your abs. Lydia likes that one.”

“Uh…” Boyd put down the highlighter that was in his hand and turned to look at Stiles. “Why do you know what shirts I wear and why should it matter what Lydia likes?” The odd thing was, Boyd knew exactly what shirt Stiles was referring to. And he’d seen Lydia eye him once or twice when she was in the room, studying for whatever math class they were taking.

“Dude. You’re kidding, right?” Stiles pushed himself up painstakingly slowly, with his eyes closed so he wouldn’t see the room spin. “Well, for one, she likes you. That matters, right?” Boyd’s eyebrows shot up, half surprised and half skeptical. The way Stiles talked about Lydia and the way he’d heard Lydia talk, it seemed like she didn’t like much. She complained a lot about how she could teach her courses better than any of her professors, how they’re always undermining her, how she should’ve gotten a way better scholarship than the blockhead jocks did. Anything that she could complain about, Lydia Martin complained about it. “Plus, we’ve been living together for months. I’m sure I’ve seen all of your shirts at least once. And you wear that green shirt any time you go out with a girl. Show off your assets, I get that.”

“Oh.”

“And she likes when you wear that Abercrombie cologne. So, do that, too.”

“Are you trying to set me up with your friend?”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Boyd opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. He’d never thought about it. Sure, he thought she was pretty and smart, and that she made _really_ good red velvet cupcakes that he’d take from Stiles. Sometimes, he’d find himself looking at her when she was on Stiles’ bed during their study sessions, her strawberry blonde curls draped over her shoulder and her laugh resonating throughout the room because of something stupid that Stiles said. Once or twice, he’d catch her looking back, and then he’d catch the tips of her ears turn red and he’d smile to himself. “She’s nice, I guess.”

“Nice is better than nothing, so. Green polo and jeans. Oh, and those dark brown Sperry’s. It’ll match.” Stiles slid back under his sheets and groaned. “Wake me up when it’s dark out. We’re going to Derek’s to pre-game.” Boyd nodded, directing his gaze back to his book.

All of Stiles’ friends, the ones that Boyd had met at least once, were at Derek’s apartment when they got there. And Lydia. But Boyd pretended not to notice her. Ten minutes in, and Boyd was pretty much the only sober person there. Not that he minded; he liked watching Stiles and Scott spit “I love you man”s back and forth, and he laughed whenever Isaac tripped over his own feet (which happened more often than not). He sat on the stairs, his hands folded and leaning on his knees. Isaac tripped over Scott’s foot and subsequently into Stiles which resulted in a pile of drunken college boy and mangled limbs on the carpet.

“Here.” Boyd looked up to see Lydia standing in front of him, holding out a Lime-a-Rita. Boyd knew about those. They were something like margaritas with a little beer mixed in. Or something similarly as gross. He shook his head, silently refusing the can in her hand. “Take it. I’ve already had, like, three.” He could tell: her face was all red and rosy, and she was obviously trying to hold back a very large smile. She sat next to him, her leg resting on his. “That shirt is _so_ nice on you. I love it.”

Boyd shifted, half uncomfortable and half unprepared for the accidental (mostly?) physical contact. He took the can from her and shrugged. “Uh. I don’t… I don’t drink. Sorry.”

Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “So, why the hell are you here then? Just one sip. You’ll love it.” She pouted at him, green eyes sparkling. “Please? Just one. It’s just like soda, I promise.”

“I, um, made a deal with Stiles.” Boyd eyed the can apprehensively. He wasn’t about to have his first drink because a girl asked him to. Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. It’d been nineteen years without a drink, and his first drink was definitely not going to be because a girl asked him to drink it. “No, sorry. I don’t drink.” He handed the can back to her and she shrugged.

“Fine. But, you have to drink when we play Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever.” Lydia smirked at him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and walking away, leaving Boyd to revel in the fact that he could’ve made a move on her. You know, if he liked her.

“Guys, guys! Lydia wants to play Never Have I Ever,” Stiles yelled. The group assembled in something of a circle-like shape with their bottles and cups in tow. Lydia sat next to Boyd, almost falling into him twice and breaking out into a massive giggle fit.

“You have to drink when you’ve done something someone’s never done. Got it?” Boyd nodded, knowing Stiles was directing the question to him mostly. “I’ll start! Never have I ever …” Stiles dramatically stroked his chin, as though he was in deep thought even though Boyd knew his deep thinking periods were somewhere between the hours of three and six in the morning. “…brought a girl back to the room.” He winked over at Derek who promptly looked down at the beer in his hand as his skin turned an even darker shade of red. _So that’s what Stiles does when he’s out late_. Scott took a long drink of his beer and Isaac followed suit. Stiles glared at Boyd. “Drink, asshole!” Boyd looked around the circle, then at Lydia who shoved the can back into his hands. He rolled his eyes, pulled the top and raised the can for all to see.  “Look at him,” Stiles wiped a fake tear from his cheek, “Baby’s first drink. I feel so proud.”

It did taste like soda, much to Boyd’s surprise. He was pretty sure that one was supposed to cringe or grimace when drinking; at least from what he’d seen in movies. But, this was pretty good. Really good, in fact. Scott went next. “Never have I ever played college basketball.” That was obviously meant for Boyd, who was the starting point guard of the Bruins. He took another sip, the drink tasting more and more like soda.

The game went on for another four rounds. Everyone had gone through at least two cans of something and everyone had either fallen over completely or swayed back and forth. Everyone except Boyd and Lydia who had gone off to find more Lime-a-Ritas. “Your first drink was good, I take it?” Lydia smiled as Boyd ravaged through the refrigerator.

“Really good.” The sort of crooked, involuntary smile that had been on his face for the past ten minutes showed that. “I can’t find any more. This sucks. They were _really_ good.” He straightened up and closed the fridge.

“That’s fine. I’m drunk enough, anyway.” She eyed him slowly, noticeably and twirled a curl between her fingers.

Boyd snorted. “Drunk enough for what?” He watched her twirl her hair a little bit longer than he should’ve, a grin still on his face.

Lydia eyed him again and stepped up to him, forcing him back against the fridge. “For this, silly.” She slid a hand under his shirt, her nails scraping over the skin of his abdomen, and kissed him. Naturally, his hands found her waist and he pulled her closer. His kiss trailed down her jaw and to her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands scratching gently at his scalp, and moaned quietly as he nipped at her skin.

“Uh…” The two of them looked up at the doorway of the kitchen at Stiles, who sported a grin that meant he was equal halves drunk and proud. “We’re leaving now. Unless you two wanted some more alone time.” Boyd looked over at Lydia, then back at Stiles before shoving his hands into his pockets and walking out to the rest of the group. Lydia came up next to him and smirked.

This was either going to be a really good night, or absolutely catastrophic.

**Author's Note:**

> idk i just really wanted everyone drunk so here.


End file.
